


Dust.

by ProfessionalCranberry



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, No Mercy Route, POV Second Person, sorry about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessionalCranberry/pseuds/ProfessionalCranberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust.

Dust covers everything here. It coats the ground; thin and fine and only recently disturbed by the heatedness of battle. It fills the air, drifting about lazily, unconcerned, apathetic; you can’t help but feel like it’s taunting you. It filters into your mouth as you take a faux breath and compulsion urges you to spit it right back out. You don’t. You can’t. This is all that’s left of them.

It wasn’t always like this, you recall bitterly. There was a time when the air was clean; too alive and full and dignified to allow room for dust. For every heinous particle that choked the dim atmosphere, there was a snowflake, a drop of rain, a puff of steam, a fallen leaf. There was a word of encouragement, a genuine laugh, a triumphant cheer, a happy smile, a kind stranger, a loyal friend. For every godforsaken particle there was life, life, _life._

And now.

There is dust.

Your eyes burn and you’re not sure if it’s from the despair, the pain, or something else. Maybe it’s the dust. You want so badly to say that’s it. You want to believe that it’s the cause for all your problems, the force behind everything wrong in the world. You want to, you want with _every fiber of your being_ to _hate_ it, _curse_ it, _blame_ it; but you can’t. You can’t because you know that this is all that remains. They didn’t get a say. It’s not their fault. Not at all.

Among these unfamiliar particles are your friends. Your friends are here and maybe, just maybe, your brother is here too.

That’s selfish, you think.

It’s not.

Selfish is erasing a happy ending to experience the thrill of the adventure again. Selfish is getting bored of seeing people happy. Selfish is hurting someone just to see what happens. Selfish is going back to avoid the consequences. Selfish is getting an unlimited amount of chances to get something right. Selfish is being able to cheat death. Selfish is causing it.

Enough. Your work here is done, it’s time for you to leave. You don’t want to be around for the next part anyway.

 _"welp,"_ you say, voice strained and wavering, _"i’m going to grillby’s."_

You stand up, sending a smattering of red droplets falling harmlessly to the floor. The first bit of you breaks away, drifting sluggishly upwards and soon becoming just another indistinguishable speck. You watch it go and you aren’t sure how to feel.

You put one foot in front of the other as more of you starts to disperse. Gray mixes with red and the sight is overwhelmingly repulsive. That doesn’t matter. Keep walking. You have to. Don't stop. It's all that matters anymore. Just _keep walking._

You can’t. You sink to your knees and take a shuddering breath; half a broken sob and half a gasp of overbearing pain. No amount of effort is going to get you back on your feet, that much is obvious, so you do the only thing you can and look up. Huh. The dust is so much more noticeable in this light. You can see the silhouette of every little speck against the golden windows and their inapt radiance. You wonder if they can see you.

You’re dying, you know that much. It’s not a new concept and you know it’s not permanent. That doesn’t stop you from hating it just as much as the first time. You’ll never get over how… unsettling the sensation feels. You gaze at the dust, and you can feel yourself slipping away. Time’s almost up. That’s fine, you only have one last thing to do. You want to offer your kindness to the person who gave it to you in excess. It’s hardly anything in comparison, and you aren’t even sure if a part of him is here, but there’s a chance. There’s a chance and you have to _try._

And so, with the last vestiges of your being intact, you look to the distant ceiling and make eye contact with the dead, staring straight at the image of someone who’s not there, and you call out to it.

 

 

_"papyrus, do you want anything?"_

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this is my first contributation to the undertale fandom! I'm not really satisfied with this one, not to mention how short it is, but hey I gotta start somewhere. It's actually been a long time since I've written something, and an even longer time since I've actually finished something. Hopefully my other works will be happier; I mainly only did this cause it's closer to my perfered writing style, but I'm not really one for angst.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
